


Flaming Spy Dreams

by Phoenix5680



Category: Spies Are Forever - Talkfine/Tin Can Brothers
Genre: Childhood Memories
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-17
Updated: 2020-05-17
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:42:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24233779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phoenix5680/pseuds/Phoenix5680
Summary: A very short story following an encounter of a young Owen Carvour with his father.
Kudos: 4





	Flaming Spy Dreams

Treading on the carpet quietly, Owen looked up. He stepped through the door tentatively, keeping the toy gun firmly hidden behind his back. His face was flushed red and he was breathing heavily after running around. His father sat at the desk, facing him.  
‘Owen Carvour.’ Owen lowered his head as his father spoke his name in his ironically charismatic, but accusing tone. The same tone he heard everyday when he was going to get into trouble. His father continued mercilessly; ‘Have you done your work?’  
‘Yes father,’ Owen muttered miserably. He was fighting the urge to run. That wouldn’t do.  
‘Speak up boy!’ The bellow came and Owen jumped.  
‘Yes, father’, Owen said slowly, trying to project and keep his voice from cracking with fear.  
‘Show me your hands.’ The words bore into Owen and resonated through his body, travelling to where his sweaty palms clutched the carved wood. The echo cut like bullets into the small figure of a seven year old Owen and he trembled under the pressure. There was nothing he could do. Mustering up all his courage, all his strength that he channelled in his role plays Owen took his hands out from behind his back and gave his father the gun. His father rose, furious. Advancing on him as a lion might to its prey. He towered over the boy and screamed insults into the mop of hair that hung as Owen stared at the floor, holding back tears.  
‘Don’t you dare let me ever see you playing games with these kinds of stupid toys! I don’t care if you want to be a detective! You are my son, and no son of mine will ever be anything but a respectable man! You tuck these dreams away boy, as I burn this, or you will be no son of mine.’ He snarled the last word and Owen wiped a tear from his eyes to prevent it from falling onto the immaculately kept carpet. His legs felt weak and he was shaking quietly. No. A spy doesn’t cry.  
‘I’m going to be a spy, father.’ He made a grave error. His father stepped forwards and grabbed his wrist. Own felt numb as he was dragged up the stairs by his father. His father stormed into Owen’s room and opened the cupboard. Instantly clothes and equipment that Owen hid away and used to practise being a spy fell out and collapsed in a large heap on the ground.His father grabbed at it and pulled everything in the cupboard out, growling viciously as it happened. For the next hour Owen watched his father drop each and every item into the open fire in the room as he spat venomously at the ground. And Owen watched his stuff burning. He dream burning. All that was left as Owen crawled out of bed at the early hours of the next day was the rotten looking, blackened wood that had once been a little wooden gun. Staring up at Owen. Mocking him and his dream.


End file.
